


Witching Hour

by laureltreedaphne



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:32:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laureltreedaphne/pseuds/laureltreedaphne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom loves the early hours of the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Migrating fic over from LiveJournal - this is from 2003. Written in 27 minutes for the contrelamontre early morning challenge.

Dom loves the incredibly early hours of the morning - between two and four AM, when it's too late for most people to still be out, and too early for most people to be getting up. The witching hour, his mother used to call it, the time when people who don't live normal lives come out to play. Dom loves the feeling of being the only one up, loves feeling like he's the only one in existence, that the moment is his and his alone, not to be experienced by anyone else.

Of course, in Berlin, he could never get that feeling. Someone was always awake, no matter what the hour - the punk rock clubbers would be out all night, or the bakers would be up preparing breakfast for the business men to devour on their way to work - the city was always alive. But here in New Zealand, the moment is absolute silence. It's as if the world is paused. Dom is content to stand here with his mug of lukewarm tea and wait for the world to wake up. 

It'll start with the birds, chirping just outside the window. Then he'll hear the whir of cars traveling on the nearby road, their sleepy drivers sipping hot drinks and listening to the radio, unable to believe that just moments ago they were still asleep in their warm beds. Someone will stumble noisily into the kitchen to put on the tea kettle, and he'll hear someone else curse as the shower blasts out water that's too hot. 

Floorboards creak behind him, and Dom turns to see Billy, hair still mussed from sleep, eyes half closed, stumbling into the room. "Dom," he says, his voice low and rough from sleep. "What're you doing up?"

Dom shrugs, turning back to the window. "Just watching," he answers. Billy's next to him now, resting his hand on Dom's shoulder as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. 

"But there's nothing happening out there," he says after a moment, a bit more coherent now. 

Billy rests his head on Dom's shoulder, yawning and still rubbing at his eyes. "I know," Dom says. He glances down at Billy, who's staring out the window at the darkness now, with the imprint of his sheets still on his cheek. 

Sometimes, Dom doesn't mind sharing.


End file.
